This is not how you want a judge to begin your court hearing:

"You have one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, 10, 11, 12, 13 previous convictions."

Circuit Judge Wanda K. Heard pronounced each number slowly and sternly, like a mother scolding a child who had repeatedly misbehaved. Found guilty time after time after time on minor theft and drug charges, Lennette Priscilla Johnson adamantly refused to get help.

The judge pleaded. Johnson shook her head no.

She's 36, the mother of two, including a 3-year-old boy. She chose three years' probation over treatment, and she faces the possibility of nine years in prison if she messes up again.

The longest and most coherent sentence she uttered during the hearing: "I can do the three years."

Heard harbored no doubt that she couldn't. "I'm telling you it will not last," she said.

In the end, Johnson had exasperated both the judge and her own attorney.

"You need help, and I'm prepared to make the state of Maryland pay for it," Heard thundered. "But you have got to want it."

Johnson didn't.

All to get high again. To get back to the drugs she started when she was 18.

The hearing took place in a nearly empty room in Baltimore Circuit Court on Sept. 9. I watched it on videotape after hearing about Heard's extraordinary lecture. And that's what it was: a lecture. The attorneys stood mostly silent, as did Johnson. But it wasn't clear whether any of Heard's words got through.

The state's case against Johnson was about as routine as they come. She was arrested twice - on June 30 for selling a tiny amount of marijuana and again July 24 for selling packets of heroin. An officer saw her exchange packets of drugs for money in an East Baltimore alley.

Normally, these cases end up lost in the crowded dockets of District Court. But Johnson was different. She had been convicted 13 previous times. Even in Baltimore, 13 convictions get you noticed.

We have heard police and other leaders say we can't arrest our way out of the drug problem. But what do we do with the people who don't want help? Heard didn't want to send Johnson to prison. But it is fast becoming her only choice.

"Don't come in here and play me," the judge told her. "Because there are other people in this building who wouldn't care whether you did time or got drug treatment or time served or got shot up on the corner on your way out the door. I know why you don't want treatment. Because the drugs are calling you right now. And you would do anything, ... tell me anything to get out of here."

Heard mentioned Johnson's son and 20-year-old daughter.

"The gangs are coming after your kids," she said. "Now, you can keep doing drugs so you don't think about it, but when you come off your high, the gangs are coming after your kids. You can't take care of your 3-year-old and get high. When the time comes for you to decide whether to get milk or get drugs, you are going to get drugs."

Johnson remained unmoved.

Heard warned her that if she lapses while on probation, she better come in and tell the judge before the police do. "If you come here shackled, if we have to find you, you're done. Nine years."

The rest was perfunctory. The prosecutor quickly read the police report into the record. Johnson's attorney, Andrea Negron, pleaded with her client to reject the deal and take the treatment. "This is not a good idea," she advised.

Johnson pleaded guilty to a single count of attempting to sell drugs. Heard handed down her sentence and asked her if she had anything to say.

The defendant shook her head no.

"Good luck," Heard said.